


Agent of Change

by misura



Series: New World Order [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Gen, Nicaise Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am not for sale," said Kallias.</p><p>"Everyone is for sale," Nicaise said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agent of Change

It was strange, to realize that while many of the things he had wished for had come to pass, none of them had served to improve his situation or brought him any closer to the one thing he had wished for more than any other. If anything, Kastor's death and Damianos's new law had only served to put Erasmus even further out of his reach.

As a free man, Kallias might travel to Patras unhindered; as someone who had once been a slave, it was far from inconceivable that, once he crossed the border, in Patras, he would be considered a slave once more, and captured as such. It might even happen before he reached Patras at all. 

This, Kallias imagined, was what people meant when they said, _Be careful what you wish for._

 

Many of the former palace slaves had left Ios by now. Before, palace slaves had only been available to those of noble or royal blood - now, anyone who could afford to pay them might hire one.

It was a clever move, Kallias thought. Freeing the palace slaves had cost Damianos nothing, but it had gained him a great deal of goodwill from those who had for a long time longed to own one - and if the ownership was a mere illusion, paid for by the month, what of it?

Any freed slave who had not yet found employment, or who did not wish to leave might remain in the former slave quarters of the palace, to live there simply, but well enough.

Kallias did not know if he would have accepted employment, had anyone offered. He _had_ received offers, several times, but they had invariably been withdrawn within hours or sometimes even minutes of having been made.

The first time, he had felt a little annoyed, a bit angry, even. There were plenty of offers; there was no need for the petty back-stabbing and plotting that had gone on before.

After the third time, he resigned himself to it. He had been Kastor's. He would, forevermore, be tainted. Ruined. Suspect, and thus unsafe to employ by anyone who wished for the new King's favor.

He would probably never get to see Erasmus again. Perhaps that was only just, after what he had done to Erasmus in order to save his life.

 

Four months after the edict, visitors had become a rarity in the former slave quarters. Twenty people remained there; seven women and thirteen men. There was no need for them to share rooms, although two of the women and four of the men still did. Kallias supposed it was what they were used to.

He did not think of the others as friends, exactly. Still, when he noticed someone walking down the hallway, and realized what that meant, he did not feel pleased at the idea that soon, there would be even fewer of them left.

Their visitor was young - too young, surely, to be here unattended. Well-dressed, and too pale-skinned to be Akielon.

 _Veretian, then._ Kallias had been tutored in the language for a few weeks, wondering at Kastor's reasons for ordering it, until the Veretian troops had arrived at Ios. Only then had he realized that what Kastor had done was worse than a simple coup, one Prince ousting another.

 _Had I known earlier, I might have told someone._ And not be believed, likely as not. Still.

"I was told that you were able to speak," their visitor said. He was very beautiful, if you liked the type. Had he been low-born, and Akielon, he would likely have ended up on the auction-block.

"Not very well," said Kallias, in Veretian. The full phrase he had been taught was, of course, _'This slave humbly apologizes for not speaking your language very well'_. He was not a slave anymore, though, and he certainly saw no need to apologize.

A sneer. "I speak Akielon."

 _Not very well,_ Kallias thought, but his training had also taught him not to show his thoughts on his face, or his feelings. He said, "Yes."

A scowl. Kallias decided that whomever would receive an offer of employment, he would warn them against accepting it. Better to have a kind employer than one who was permanently annoyed.

_Best not to have a master at all._

"My name is Nicaise."

"Yes," Kallias said, again. He was grateful for his training. Nicaise was the name of Nikandros's assistant - _lover_ , some said, although Kallias considered that unlikely. Nikandros's tastes were much like those of the King. _The King who has taken a Veretian into his bed and gave him Delpha. The King who has freed all the royal slaves in Ios._

"Your name is Kallias."

 _Very_ grateful for his training. Kallias nodded once, waiting.

He did not have to wait long.

"How much?" asked Nicaise.

The question by itself might have been innocuous, a foreigner trying to use simple words to a man who barely spoke his language; the question combined with the slow look Nicaise gave him was not.

"I am not for sale," said Kallias. He had only the fuzziest memory of being bought as a boy, of visitors, coming from the school, drinking wine with his parents. He did not know if there had been any haggling, or if his parents had simply accepted the first offer.

Maybe it had been like this. Maybe the buyers had asked _how much?_ and simply paid the asked for sum, gloating over having gotten a bargain. Pouring themselves another cup of cheap wine.

"Everyone is for sale," said Nicaise.

Any moment now, one of the others might happen upon them. "Not everyone."

Nicaise named a sum. It was not a low sum. Kallias had heard higher ones, offered to those who had never served Kastor in bed, but not often.

He said, "No."

"I will not offer you more than that," said Nicaise. His look suggested that Kallias was being unreasonable, that he was ruining a chance for something good here.

"I want to go to Patras," said Kallias. "That's all I want." That was far from all he wanted, but he felt that his point was made: Nicaise wanted to employ him here, and Kallias wanted to go to Patras.

There was no combining those two desires. They were not compatible in any way.

"Good," said Nicaise. "I want you to go to Patras."

His mistake. "Why?"

"As a - " Nicaise used a word Kallias did not recognize. He allowed his expression to reveal this. "To see," Nicaise said. "To talk to people."

Kallias wondered if the word he had not known could really have been 'spy'. It seemed unlikely. Who would want to hire a former slave as a spy? There were people far more skilled to do that, surely.

Perhaps he had misunderstood. "I want to talk to someone else," he said.

Nicaise's expression was smug, as if Kallias had said, _I will do this thing you want_. "Which one?"

He meant, Kallias realized, which _King_ , which was madness. He had imagined Nicaise might find a secretary, or a soldier - someone who spoke Akielon.

"Nikandros," he said. Kallias had nothing to say to Damianos, or his Veretian lover. Nikandros was supposedly Nicaise's superior, though, the one who had told him to come here.

"Fine," said Nicaise.

 

"The King wishes to end slavery," said Nikandros.

It was a simple enough sentence; even Nicaise could probably understand it. Six words.

" _All_ slavery?" Kallias asked. It was inconceivable. The kyroi would never stand for it. They might not rebel outright, but there were countless ways in which a kyros might act against a king he disliked.

Nikandros probably knew all of them, and a few more that he had saved for a special occasion, for a moment when Kastor would have been particularly vulnerable.

"Yes," said Nikandros. His face was expressionless. "He considers it uncivilized."

Nicaise smirked. Kallias wondered if he ever looked happy, or even content. "Oh."

"Of course, the King also values our relationship with Patras," said Nikandros. "He does not wish to offend them, or to suggest that they are barbarians for still keeping slaves."

 _What about the kyroi?_ Not a question a former slave should ask of a kyros.

"I am unsure what service you would wish of me, Exalted." Kallias spoke Patran fluently; relations between Akielos and Patras had always been friendly.

Nikandros glanced at Nicaise, who stared back coolly.

"As you may be aware, there is a group of Akielon palace slaves currently in Bazal," said Nikandros. "The King would like to know their minds. To know if they would wish to return to Akielos and be made free. And also, of course, to know if such a thing might be possible."

Kallias swallowed. It seemed cruelty beyond words, to dangle this in front of him. To let him glimpse this possibility, this thing that would surely never happen. To have Erasmus with him again, here, both of them free men. _We might take a ship and go anywhere we wish._

"An official embassy might speak with King Torgeir, but even if he were allowed to speak with the slaves in private, it seems unlikely they would speak with him as freely as they would with you."

Kallias nodded, to show he understood. His mind was whirling. "I will not be an official ambassador, then. You will not give me any official papers." He might be captured or killed, and nobody would lift a finger to help or avenge him.

"No," said Nikandros and hesitated. "It would be best if you were to act inconspicuously."

Nicaise sneered again. This time, Kallias supposed he understood the feeling. "You are asking me to risk my life." True, Patras was not a hostile country. Someone found acting suspiciously, in a place where he should not be, might simply be thrown out of the palace. Patrans were not like Veretians.

"Not me," said Nikandros. "The King. And it _is_ only a request, not an order."

"You said you wanted to go to Patras," said Nicaise. "It was all you wanted."

"It was." _Erasmus._ Slaves were not treated poorly, in Patras. Erasmus had been there for months. If Kallias were to ask, _Do you want to come home?_ , who was to say Erasmus would not reply, simply, _I_ am _home, with this man who owns me and treats me as men treat their slaves_? "I will gladly go to Patras for you, Exalted. For the King." _For Erasmus._

Nikandros did not look happy. There was a hint of relief to his expression, though. "Thank you."

"When will I leave?" It might be polite, to say his goodbyes to the others. He did not know if they would miss him.

"As soon as Charls gets here," said Nikandros, turning to Nicaise, who frowned and said, "Four of five days, if the weather holds."

"Charls?" It was a Veretian name. A renowned cloth merchant went by that name, but Kallias could not imagine there would be any connection between his assignment and that man, so it had to be someone else - a true spy, perhaps. Someone who would travel with him and teach him things he already knew, as well as a few things he did not.

"You'll be travelling as his cousin," Nikandros explained. "He has a very extensive family, so nobody will think much of it if they have never seen you before."

"I hope you know some things about cloth," said Nicaise.


End file.
